Perspective
by Weatherbug02
Summary: Kerttu Koskinen, the obedient, loving, and responsible child of Eadlyn and Erik turns 19. Deciding to be spontaneous for once, she pursues a man at a club. Little does she know who he is Or rather, who his father is.


It's a funny thing, growing up. Every moment, you wish to be older, until it finally stops. Then you realize what a fool you were. I have to admit, I had waited for this day ever since I was a little girl. I remember wearing my mom's heels around the palace, trying on her makeup, and spinning around to a horribly awkward tune that Uncle Osten would play on the piano. It seemed so beautiful, so extravagant back then.

Now I stare at myself and think, "What in the world were you thinking, Gerty?"

"Your Highness! You look lovely tonight!" one of the reporters shout, snapping pictures of me as I walk. "Is there any man tonight you're gracing with your presence this evening?"

I want to roll my eyes. Reporters. Never subtle, always merciless. "Only my father and—"

"—any prince that is foolish enough to snatch a dance with her," my brother says, sliding an arm around my waist. "Oh, look, here's one now. If you'll excuse us." He drags me away, and suddenly I remember the reason I wasn't totally horrified when we found out he was a boy.

As he gracefully pulls me into a dance, I let out a relieved sigh. "I hate reporters."

My brother smirks, his dark hair falling into his eyes. Out of the two of us, he's the only only one who actually looks like Mom and Dad. Dark hair, brown eyes, tanned skin. The only thing that gives me away as their child is my blue eyes, which perfectly matches my father's.

"You should be glad you're not the heir, Ladan." I look around to see if anyone's watching. Sure enough, there's reporters walking around, clobbering anybody within two feet with a dozen questions.

"It's _awful_ , right?"

"No _,_ it's not _awful_. I like it. The work is fine, the meetings are fine. The only thing I can't stand is when somebody gets in my face about this marriage thing."

Ladan shrugs. "That's how it is. They ask me about that stuff, too. Not to mention it's tradition for you to be married before you take the crown."

I glance over at our parents. They stand next to each other, both smiling. I had heard the story of their Selection a million times. Mom was the princess, he was the translator for Uncle Henri. They weren't supposed to fall in love, but they did anyway. I knew a lot more about it than what I care to admit. Apparently Grandma wouldn't tell Mom about hers, so my mother took the liberty to tell me every dirty detail.

"I know it's tradition, but it hasn't been followed, in, what, the last two generations? Besides, I don't see you trying to get a girl."

"I'm 14, _Kerttu_."

"14 you may be, brother, but remember that if I can't have children—" I poke his chest— "it's up to you."

Ladan grimaces. "Gerty, I… have something to tell you."

I stare at him a moment, confusion lining my face. "What? Is everything okay?"

"No. Well, yeah, but—"

"Princess Gertrude! Happy birthday!" I hear someone shout. Suddenly I see the huge cake being rolled out from the kitchen.

I look back at Ladan, but he smiles. "It's okay. Go."

I shoot him a wink before walking to meet my parents.

"Congratulations, Gerty!" Saoirse shouts wrapping her arms around me. "I am so sorry I'm late."

Lady Neena comes up behind her. "Saoirse, behave yourself." Smiling, she turns to me. "Happy birthday, sweetie."

I smile and hug Lady Neena. "Thank you. I'm glad you're here."

"I have been your mother's friend for 25 years. I knew you when you were in diapers. You think I'm not coming to your 19th birthday? Please."

I laugh. I've always loved Neena. She's been around for as long as I can remember, and with her comes Saoirse.

"Okay, Mother. We get it. You're sentimental." She turns to me. "Let's go have fun."

I send a sympathetic smile to Lady Neena before turning back to Saoirse. "We are going to have the best night."

"How so?"

She pulls me into a guest bedroom and shuts the door. I want to tell her I have a lot of things to do, but the excited glimmer in her eye makes me think otherwise. Saoirse always likes to have more fun than me, mostly because she could have fun. Even if I were allowed to go out and be wild I probably wouldn't anyway. For some reason I've always been more content to stay home in my pajamas and work on budgeting with Grandpa.

I hadn't noticed the bag she carries until she pulls out a ridiculously short, see-through green dress.

I snort. "I cannot wear that. The press—"

"Will never find out. Besides, no one will miss you. Everyone is drunk off their rocker right now. We'll just say we're having a sleepover and won't be disturbed."

I stare down at the dress. "I don't know…"

Saoirse sticks out her lip. "Pleeeeease."

I sigh. "But I don't look good in green."

"Don't worry. I've got you covered."

It took an hour and a half of makeup and thirty minutes of sneaking out before we made it to the club, but I've got to say, it was worth it. To say we looked good was an understatement. I've always been jealous of Saoirse's looks—her highlights, her dark skin, her contouring skills—but I've got to say I think I finally look the part. Not of a princess, God no. If the press saw me right now they'd have a field day. What I think I mean, I guess, is I finally look like myself. Like Kerttu Henrietta Schreave de Koskinen

She always said back when she was young she looked just like me, but I could never see it. It wasn't that she didn't look like me, it was because I didn't look like her. I got my strawberry hair from her, but I've never been the exact image of anyone. My mother looked like her grandmother, my grandparents looked like their parents. I've always just been kinda me.

But when we got to the club I could finally consider myself pretty.

"We are going to have so much fun!" Saoirse says as we exit the car.

"Hey!" a voice says.

Saoirse rolls her eyes and sticks her head back in the car. "What do you want, Ren?"

"I'm not gonna get in trouble, am I?"

I snort. "It's okay, Ren. No one will find out. If they do, well, all blame goes to Saoirse." I knew that wouldn't fly, but Warren Woodwork was the most anxiety-ridden kid I have ever met. "I'd let you come in with us, but—"

" —I'm 16, I know."

"No, your mother would skin you if she found out you went to a club."

"So would yours."

I sigh and throw $50 in cash at him. "Keep quiet and come back at one."

Saoirse smirks and wraps an arm around me. "Let's go. Remember, if anyone asks you're Gertrude, a college student that's dead-broke, and if any guys bother you I'm your lover."

"Always a saint, Saoirse."

"Always."

35 shots. One bar. Let's get deadass drunk within an hour.

At least, that's what Saoirse thinks going to clubs is about. Drinking yourself into a coma seems to be the norm around here.

"Gertrude!" Saoirse shouts, pulling on my wrist. "These nice boys are offering to buy us drinks!" She nods over to a group of young men conversing while a group of baby prostitutes suck on their necks.

I snort and lean against a wall. There's a woman retching into a potted plant and another dragging a scraggly-looking man into a bathroom. "I'd rather not."

My terribly—no, horribly—drunk friend giggles in childish delight. "You see the hot one?"

I glance over at the group. "I don't see any hot guys within a mile radius of here." It's true. We haven't come to the best club in Angeles. Half of the guys are grinding on girls no more than sixteen, the other half look like they've spent the last twenty years in prison while doing methamphetamine.

"Seriously? There are tons of hot guys. You came out here to have fun, not make out with the wall! Find someone hot, make them buy you a drink, and then just go crazy!"

"I can't go crazy. I'm—" I look around to make sure no one's watching— "the princess. I have an image to uphold."

Saoirse groans, tugging on my dress, which is painfully tight. And short. Part of the reason I'm sticking to my wall is the fact that I can't seem to walk three feet without the dress riding up and flashing my ass to a poor bystander. "Come on, have some fun for once, Gerty."

I sigh and pull away from her. "I want to go home." She doesn't move. Finally, I just walk away, pulling down my dress as I go.

"Gertrude! Please don't! Fine, be like that! Go home without me, I don't care! I'll find a ride somewhere else!"

"Maybe I'll just hook up with a random person like you do! Oh, how about I don't because I'm not a whore!"

"You couldn't get a guy even if he were stripping down in front of you! You say it's because of your morals, but you're just a little girl who can't stand the idea of sex!" I lose her in the crowd. I told her I'd get into trouble if I came to these things. I told her it was a bad idea, but of course she didn't listen.

Angry tears fill my eyes as I storm out of the club, but I will them to stop, if not for my pride then for my mascara. It was bad to sneak out, but I thought maybe for once I could actually have fun. God, I'm stupid.

I'm finally out on the sidewalk, trying to figure out how to get home, when I trip. I fly (much more than I assume is humanly possible) over a half-naked prostitute straddling an invigorated middle-aged man that looks like he got divorced four times, lost the dog, and decided to invest in the stock market.

Despite my overwhelming sense of gratitude for making my dress fly up half my body, the first thing I do when I recover is cover my eyes to deny an sort of consequence to what I've done. I can almost see the prostitute's face when I hear a shrieking laughter. The parking lot is filled with cars (All 20-year-old lived-in-my-car-the-first-few-years-of-my-adult-life ones), but only a few people actually stand around, all smoking some kind of dope.

I want to burn in humiliation, but I highly doubt they'll remember it anyway. "Holy shit, are you okay?" someone asks. I hear their footsteps coming closer, but I don't look at them. Just kill me now.

"I am stuck. At a nightclub. With nothing but heroin addicts. And prostitutes. I am certainly _not_ okay."

The guy laughs. I want to hit him. "Uh, would you mind if…"

"What?"

"You're in front of my car."

I uncover my eyes and come face-to-face with a young man who surprisingly doesn't look like a pothead or have been living in their car for the last four years. In fact, from my position in a twisted angle on the concrete parking lot of a nightclub, he looks pretty okay.

"Hello," I say, sitting up. He offers a hand. "I'm afraid I don't always go to clubs and pass out for strange men to find me." I accept his hand, and he pulls me up, a smirk on his face. Blushing, I pull down my dress.

"I don't mind," he says, "but I find it concerning when I find women on the ground in a parking lot."

I snort. "Well, thanks, I guess. Um…"

I meet his eyes, kind of startled by his height. "I'm Ronan," he says.

The name sounds familiar, but I push that thought away. "I'm Gerty."

"Gerty?"

I blush. "Gertrude. It's a nickname. It's nice to meet you."

Ronan rakes his eyes down me, but there's not anything sexual or hungry about it. "Are you okay? It looks like you took quite a fall."

I look back at the man and his prostitute, grimacing at their disgusting interaction. "I, well, not really. My friend dragged me out here, and I just wanna go home, but it's really dangerous out here, and I'm going to get in trouble with my parents, and—"

"Do you want me to take you home?"

Such a generous offer, almost too generous. Surely a man dressed like him coming to this kind of club has something to lose or something to forget. "I'm not supposed to take rides from strangers, especially ones I meet in meth clubs."

"First, it's not a meth club. Second, I'm not a stranger. I'm Ronan. I thought we covered this."

Ah, so he wants to play this game. I straighten up, but I barely reach his eyes. "Well, Ronan. It was, uh, very nice to meet you, but I need to find my friend and make her take me home. Do you have the time?"

He glances at his watch. "It's 1:45."

I groan. "Damn it, Ren." Probably fell asleep, the little shit. And I'm sure Saoirse is already gone, judging by the amount of guys she had hanging on her. "I'll just call someone on my…" I suddenly realize I left my phone at the palace. I have nothing. I have been abandoned at club that I have no clue where I'm at.

"Are you okay?"

I wipe my eyes, and my fingers come off black from the mascara. "Not really, but I'll figure it out."

"Gertrude, I know you probably don't trust me, but if you need help, I'll help you. Just say the word."

Does he know who I am? No, he couldn't. It's dark out here, and Princess Gertrude is supposed to be at her birthday party. It's fine.

I stare at him for a moment. "Okay. I'll trust you, Ronan, but if you do anything questionable, anything at all, I will make you wish you never made it past age 5."

He laughs. "That's oddly specific, but okay. I promise I will not do anything without your permission." And for some reason I believe him.

"So you're telling me that you've never gotten drunk before?"

I giggle and lean back into the seat. "No. I've gotten a little tipsy, but it's hard to get drunk on wine."

Ronan shakes his head. "You're not missing anything. The hangover is horrible."

"I can imagine. I have seen my mom drunk, though. Let's just see I left the room when she started making out with my father." As much as I love that they're affectionate, there's only so much I can take.

"Ew, I know how you feel. My parents are disgustingly in love with each other. Well, most of the time. My dad has his issues, and Mom basically rules everything."

"Does he have a disability or…?"

"No, he's just stupid."

I laugh. Ronan, as far as I can tell, has deemed himself trustworthy. We're head in the correct general direction and he's kept his hands to himself. If this were another time, if I were a different person, maybe I would take the chance and do it, the deed, however you want to say it. God, Saoirse was right. I wouldn't sleep with a guy if he were stripping right in front of me.

I glance at Ronan. "Do you have significant other?" I have to make sure he's actually into girls before I say anything.

He looks at me curiously. "No, the last 'significant other' I had dumped my ass when she found a blond millionaire."

So he is into girls. "Why did you come to the club tonight?"

He shrugs. "I needed to let loose, get drunk."

"Sorry I ruined it. Turn here."

He does so and shrugs. "You didn't ruin it. Probably saved me from making more mistakes."

"Pull in here."

He stares at me for a moment. "You live at Chateau de Angeles?" I don't answer, but he pulls in anyway.

"Ronan, I want you to be completely honest with me." He nods. "Do you want to sleep with me?"

A smile lines his lips, and I'm flooded with embarrassment. "I've never had a girl ask so directly."

"I just want to make sure it's okay before I make out with you."

He turns to me. "Don't feel as if you need to repay me."

"I don't. I was just wondering because, well, I…"

He leans forward until I feel his breath on my ear. "Do you give me permission to touch you?"

"Y-Yes," I breathe. "Do you give me permission to touch you?"

"Yes," he whispers before pressing his lips against mine.

It was hard to convince Ronan not to take me right there in the car. We had pulled into the hotel for a reason, after all. "Let's take this upstairs." He manages to keep his hands off me until we're in the hallway leading to the room. "Ronan, ah, let's… the neighbors," I say as he pins me against the wall.

"Let them hear."

I giggle and pull him down the hall. I fumble with the room key as he presses kisses to my neck. My parents keep this room for guests if they don't want to stay at the palace, or for personal uses, much like my own.

As soon as the door's open Ronan hoists me into his arms. "I don't want to know where you got this room/condo."

"It's—"

"No, don't tell me. I don't want to know." He opens a door to what happens to be a bedroom and strips off his suit coat and shoes. As he does so, I sit on the bed and begin to undo my hair. My God, if Mom and Dad find out about this… no, they won't. No one will. No one has to know.

Ronan turns back to me, now shirtless, and gently pushes me down. "You're a virgin, aren't you?" His expression is playful, but I still blush.

"How'd you know?"

"You look terrified." He presses his forehead against mine. "We don't have to do this. I won't hold it against you."

"We just met like an hour ago. Why do you care so much about me?"

"My mother said she'd beat my ass and turn me into the cops if I raped a girl. And I believe her. Besides, I kinda like you."

I smile and press my lips against his. Slowly, his hands find the zipper of my dress and, with a nod from me, slides the dress to my feet. Saoirse had insisted for me to not wear underwear, but at this moment I was glad I had, if not for my dress predicament, then for the fact that I feel absolutely mortified to be seen naked.

It doesn't seem like anything new to Ronan, I realize, as he trails his lips down my neck. "I have… no idea what to do."

"You don't have to do anything."

I don't know his last name, but I already feel so attached to this man.

Saoirse was right about me. I am a terrified child, afraid of sex and intimacy. I'll probably always be like this. Hell, I'm still terrified after last night. Maybe he'll wake up and regret it all. God, I couldn't handle it. I'd become a nun.

Ronan sleeps soundly next to me, his breathing still deep. I've always been an early-riser, so I've been creepily watching him for at least half an hour. He's rather handsome, though that hadn't been a new revelation. I knew it last night, but I was too angry in the beginning to admit. He has black hair, a sharp jaw, and, well, a rather nice body.

I need to leave soon, but I can't will myself to sit up. It's still dark out. I've barely gotten two hours of sleep, but that's the price I have to pay if I want this to stay a secret. Sighing, I press a hand to Ronan's cheek. It takes a moment, but his eyes open.

"I have to go," I whisper.

"Gertrude," he groans, "it's like five in the morning. We've slept for less than two hours." Had we been doing it that long? Shit.

"I know, but… I have to go home before my parents find out."

He sighs and pulls me closer to him. " Why are you so concerned about what your parents think?" Truthfully, it's not really my parents. It's the fact that I'm the Crown Princess of Illéa, and I snuck out without guards, and the fact that I just had sex with a total stranger.

"It's complicated. I just need to get back before sunrise."

"Will you turn into a swan if you're not?"

I snort. "You're horrible."

Ronan smirks and climbs on top of me. "Horrible?"

"Wretched."

He kisses me, tangling his fingers into my hair. "Please don't go yet."

"I don't want to, but I have a lot to do. And my family is very… strict. It's complicated."

"Are they religious or something?"

I groan. "God no. It's just, well, I have certain standards and my parents have these expectations. It's hard to explain."

He slides his thumb across my cheek. "Okay. I understand. Get dressed. I'll take you home." He looks disappointed, but as much as I wish I could stay, I grab my clothes.

"Will you see me again?"

We sit in front of an apartment building nearly three blocks away from the palace. He takes me hand. "Ronan, I… don't know."

"So was this just a one-night-stand?"

"No! Well, I don't know. I'm not sure if I could sneak out again."

"Do you want to see me again?"

"Yes." I've known him only for a few hours, but he's shown more courtesy than any prince I've ever met.

He leans forward and presses a kiss to my cheek. "I'll give you my number."

I manage to go into the building, escape through the backdoor and make it home within thirty minutes. I enter my room to see that Saoirse is passed out on my bed completely dressed. Shaking my head, I walk to the bathroom. By the time all my makeup is washed off and I'm dressed for bed the sun is already rising and Saoirse is stirring.

I'm almost asleep when I hear Saoirse whisper my name. "Gertrude? Oh, God. You're alive. I thought you died."

I stare at her for a moment. She could get in so much trouble for taking me out of here, but for that to happen I'd have to tell my mother about this. I decide to be the adult here and forgive her for being so horrible to me.

"It's okay. No harm, no foul." I decide I'm not going to tell her what happened between me and Ronan. This is a secret all my own for now. "You really should change, though. If anyone came in and saw you in that there'd be questions."

Saoirse groans but stands up. "I'm sorry I said all those things."

I shrug. "It's fine."

"No, it's not. I was frustrated because I wanted you to have an amazing birthday, but it seemed like I ruined it, so I spazzed. I'm sorry."

"You didn't ruin it." If it wasn't for her I wouldn't have met Ronan.

"Where we you all night, anyway?"

Oh shit. I can't lie to her. "I… was looking for a ride."

"Did you find one okay? I just want to make sure you didn't get attacked or anything."

In a way, I guess. "No, everything's all good. I just really need to sleep. I've got stuff to do later."

I awake with the sun shining in my eyes, not even three hours after I got home. It'll have to do. I get dressed silently and spend a good five minutes staring at my face in the mirror. Nothing's different about me, but it feels… it's not anything I can describe.

Saoirse leaves as I walk down to breakfast. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you a better birthday."

I wrap my arms around her. "You tried. That's all I could ever ask for. There's always next time."

"Hopefully next time you're a queen and married."

I groan. "You sound like my mother."

Saoirse elbows me. "Not true. Your mother hasn't approached the subject of marriage in forever."

It's true. Mom's always wanted me to keep my independence. She head asked once or twice if I wanted a Selection, but I had always told her no, so we left it at that. I was always grateful she didn't try to shove it down my throat after how her Selection went. It's a great idea in theory, but the odds of you finding your soulmate that way is slim.

"I've got to get to breakfast. You can come if you want, but—"

"No. No, Mom said to come straight home, so that's where I'm going. Bye, Gertrude." She waves before jogging down the hall.

I stare after her for a moment. I almost wish we could switch places. Saoirse's always been strong and independent, never listened to what she was told. She's gone out against her mother's wishes, a woman I'm frightened of even when she's in a good mood. Sometimes I wish I were like her. I wish I had the guts to tell my mom what I did.

I can be rebellious at times, but I've always been obedient. I don't complain, I do my work. I have two parents, a wonderful family, I live in a palace for God's sake! I have an absolutely fantastic life. Why am I questioning everything I know for a one-night-stand?

"Kerttu!"

I turn around at the sound of my given name to see my grandmother bustling down the hall. I want to laugh at the sight. Grandma Schreave was always an energetic person, I've heard, but if she's like this at 57, then I can't imagine what she'd be like at twenty. "Hi, Grandma. Do you need anything?"

She smiles and slips her hand through my elbow. "Oh, no. Just wanted to walk with my granddaughter."

I narrow my eyes. "What's going on?"

It takes one long agonizing minute of walking before she finally answers me. "Where'd you go last night, Gerty?"

I wish the question took me by surprise, but if anyone would figure it out first it'd be Grandma Schreave. "N-Nowhere."

"You are a terrible liar, Kerttu."

My face turns red. Oh, God, she's right. "I was with Saoirse."

"I know you were with Saoirse. For a while at least. I saw her stumbling up the back entrance at three in the morning."

"What were you doing up at three in the morning?"

She rolls her eyes. "That wasn't the question. I won't tell your mother. I'd just like to know where you were." I open my mouth, but she sends me a look. "Don't lie to me, Gertrude."

"Saoirse took me to a club."

Grandma sighs. "And left you there?"

"Yes, well, no. I got mad and stormed out of there."

"How'd you get home?"

So many questions to avoid. "I… found a ride."

"With whom?"

"Some guy." I try to make it sound nonchalant, but it sounds creepy even to me.

"'Some _guy_?'" She groans. "Do you realize how dangerous it is to get into cars with strange men? Surely your mother had the stranger danger talk with you."

"Grandma, it was bad, I know, but I was so upset, and there were so many people, and—"

She stops and strokes my cheek. "Sweetie, I'm not mad at you. It's okay. Breathe."

The fact that I have my father's anxiety is not hard to see. I'm already dreading having this talk with my mother, and I am absolutely adamant about her not finding out about my little rendezvous. "I know, I know, but Grandma, really. There's absolutely nothing to worry about. He didn't try to touch me without my permission, and he was very nice."

"That's how young women get murdered. You have to promise not to do anything like that ever again. You and your brother are one of the most important things in this kingdom, and we'd go to any length to get you back. People know that, and people do crazy things for money."

I shake my head. "He didn't know who I was."

"Maybe so, but you don't have to be someone special for a person to take advantage of you." We walk in silence for a moment, but I'm grateful for it. More silence means less questions. "Gertrude, tell me something else." Oh, shit. "Why did you take so long getting home? You said you left the club before Saoirse, and I'm assuming Saoirse took a while, well, hooking up." No no no no. "Where were you?"

"I already got home."

"No, you didn't. I checked your room after Saoirse got here."

I could lie again. I could say I crashed in a guest bedroom, but knowing her she'd ask to see video cameras and—oh shit. We have video cameras. They could see everything—when we left, the time gap between when Saoirse and I got here. A few guards probably already know. They're talking to the maids now, and the maids will spread it like wildfire. No no no no.

"I had sex with the guy," I blurt out.

To my dismay, Grandma doesn't look surprised. At. All. "I knew it."

I face Grandma and grab her by the shoulders. "Please don't tell Mom and Dad. Or Ladan. Oh shit. They probably already know. The guards told the maids, and—and—"

"Gertrude!"

I look at her. "What?"

"I already looked at the tapes. The guards have been paid off for their discretion, and the tapes have been deleted. No one else has to know."

I gasp, and tears suddenly fill my eyes. "Oh, God." I wrap my arms around her. "Thank you, Grandma. I swear, I'll never do anything like this again."

She laughs. "At least cover your tracks better. Believe me, your Grandpa and I had plenty of fun sneaking around in our day. The only difference was we were the reigning monarchs and we didn't have our parents breathing down our neck."

"You mean you're not mad at all?"

She strokes my cheek. "Maybe a little offended that you think I'm not smart enough to check the video cameras, or disappointed that you're stupid enough to forget that they're there."

I laugh. "Thank you. I have never been more grateful for a smart grandma than now."

She wraps an arm around my shoulders and squeezes. "You better believe it, hon. So…how'd it go?"

I furrow my eyebrows. "How'd what—?" She sends me a pointed look. "OH. Oh. Uh… it was okay." My cheeks turn red. Never did I think I'd be talking about my first sexual experience would be with my grandma.

"Did you use protection?"

I groan. "Yes."

"Was he gentle with you? Assuming you were still a virgin, but considering how you're acting now…"

"Yes, he was gentle, and yes, I was a virgin." I feel slightly ashamed about that fact because I was always told to remain chaste.

I guess my expression gives me away because Grandma pats my back. "It's okay, sweetie. Your mom slept with your father before they were married too. I had told them not to, but Eadlyn was very adamant about the rules of society and women, blah blah blah."

Figures. Mom was always a hardcore feminist. I remember how happy she was when we finally passed the bill that prevented anyone to be thrown in jail if they had sex before marriage.

"That was always a silly law."

"That it may be, but it's kept many young people from making a lot of mistakes."

It was meant to be a warning, but it sounded way more personal to her than it should have. "What are you saying, Grandma?"

"I'm just telling you to be careful. I don't care if you have sex. Just be careful about it. We don't want any incidents that could potentially put you at risk."

"You mean getting pregnant? If that's what you mean, that's not happening. I—"

"Getting pregnant, STDs, this getting out to the press. If you like that boy, then you don't want the press finding anything about him sleeping with you." I definitely knew that.

"It's okay, Grandma. It's not going to happen again. It was just a crazy night, a one-time thing. That's it."

She strokes my hair. "That's what we all say, but there's something in our hearts that can't keep them away from our heads. I'm not saying to go crazy and marry him. You don't have to be ashamed for what you did."

"I don't even know him. I had just met him."

"I know, but if you want to see him again, do it. If you find out later he's a total douche, then don't feel bad for ditching him. Now, you look absolutely exhausted and we're late for breakfast, so come on!"

The dining room is filled with chatter, my family not realizing any of my presence. I take my seat next to Dad and across from Great Aunt Brice. Glancing down the table a bit, I see Ren picking at his food. I can tell he's avoiding my gaze, and it's a good thing he does too. If Ronan hadn't showed up and I was left stranded, Ren could get in so much trouble.

"I didn't think you'd come after such a crazy night, Gerty," Dad says, elbowing me. "We would've waited for you."

"Crazy night?" I start panicking inside.

"Your birthday party. Did you have a few too many glasses of wine?"

I let out a sigh of relief. "I don't know, maybe. Saoirse kept me up for quite a while."

"I'll say," Ren grumbles. I send him a death glare.

"I was passing by to get something from the kitchen, and I heard them giggling like little girls at three in the morning!" Grandma pipes up, and I send her a thankful smile. "I remember when I could stay up past three, don't you, Maxon?"

Grandpa kisses Grandma on the cheek. "Vividly."

"Ugh, Dad!" Mom groans, cringing. "Not at the table, please."

I giggle. "So, Ladan, last night you said you had to tell me something."

He sits in complete and utter shock a moment before turning his gaze to me. "Uh, it was… nothing." The table goes silent

Mom furrows her eyebrows. "It's okay, sweetie. What's wrong?"

"N-Nothing. I just wanted to talk to Gertrude about something. Everything is fine." But I know it's not. Ladan's always been so open with Mom and Dad. What's changed? "It's nothing bad. I just… can't say it here."

 _Did he lose his virginity too?_ As soon as I think it I want to laugh. Ladan may be open, but he's still 14 and one of the biggest prudes I've ever met. Whenever his friends would talk about their dirty boy-screwing-random-girl stuff Ladan would talk about how we're supposed to remain chaste until marriage.

"Uh, okay. We'll talk later."

Breakfast is awkwardly quiet for a few minutes, and I desperately try to break the ice, but I get nothing but short and simple responses: "So, Ren, is your dad coming back from Honduragua today?"

"No, tomorrow."

"What about your mom?"

"This weekend."

Of course Ren would be of no help to me. "So… Mom, will anyone else be joining us for breakfast this morning?"

She sighs. "Sorry, honey. Most everyone left last night. You've still got loads of presents to open, though."

I groan. Opening presents should be fun, but I've had a bad experience with tape and wrapping paper. "I was looking forward to talking to my uncles more." Not really. They're great and I, but they don't really get me.

"Uncle Ahren apologizes for being unable to make it. He was too busy with Camille and the kids."

I try not to cringe when I think about my horrid cousins. With all mom's and grandma's siblings I can't keep track of most of them. "It's okay. I don't mind. I honestly would've rather just had a family party this year."

"I know, Sweetie," Mom says, "but it's tradition to have a big 19th birthday because most heirs have a Selection afterwards."

"One last hurrah?"

Grandpa laughs. "Celebrate. Things change once you're married."

Grandma smacks his shoulder. "Maxon, I am the best thing that ever happened to you and you know it."

He kisses her hand. "I sure do."

I smile and avert my eyes down to my food. It's oddly satisfying to see them so in love with each other, even after all these years. I've heard the story a million times how Grandma almost died from a heart attack twenty-or-so years ago, and now she's here and very much alive. I don't know what I'd do without her.

God, I want to tell Mom so badly about my little rendezvous, but I'm so terrified. I know she won't judge me or disown me or anything. It's just embarrassing. Princesses are supposed to have self-control, but at that moment I had none. I made horrible decisions and both Saoirse and my asses are on the line.

And Ronan's, I realize. I may barely know him, but if he cared enough about me to make sure I got home safely (among other things), then I care about him enough to keep this from the press.

It's after breakfast when Mom finally approaches, her face concerned. "Are you feeling okay?" she asks, wrapping an arm around me.

God, am I being that obvious? She's no where near as vigilant as Grandma and even she can see something happened. "I'm fine," I lie. "Just a bit tired. Saoirse kept me up all night." A partial lie. Saoirse did keep me up a lot of the night, but it was other things that kept me up the rest.

"You know what? Why don't you go back to bed and I'll finish your work for today?"

I smile gratefully. I hated to accept it, but I was so goddamn tired. "You'd do that?"

She brushes my hair out of my face. "I understand how it feels to have to work all day after a party. It's absolutely _horrid_."

At least Mom believes the 'Just tired' story. Hopefully I can just keep this a secret from everyone, except of course, Grandma. Why is she always so damn perceptive?

I leave her in the hallway and head up to my room, taking note of the foul smell of vomit that hits me when I enter. God, Saoirse needs to get it together. I can't imagine what will happen to her if Lady Neena finds out about her tendency to party.

I call for a maid, but the stench is so strong that a plop straight onto my bed and groan into a pillow. Can this day get any worse? I don't want to know the answer to that question because I very well know it could. My family could find out, the press could find out, or worse, Ronan could find out who I am.

As the maids rushingly clean up my room, I close my eyes and sink into the mattress. It's an odd feeling, keeping something this substantial a secret. It scares me, hurts me, to think that I've kept so much from my mother. She and Dad have always valued honesty so much, and it feels so horrible.

But there's a part of me, a rather large, wicked part of me, wants to do it again. Ronan had said he wanted to see me again, and honestly, I do as well. Whether it's for sexual purposes or emotional, I'm not sure, but I know I want to.

 _Is it too soon? Would he think I was clingy?_ I ask myself as I reach for my phone. He had written the number on my leg, above my knee where no one would find it.

I punch it into my phone as fast as I can and send him a simple message: _Gertrude_

My heart beats rapidly as I wait for him to reply, getting irrationally impatient as the moments go by. It can't be more than thirty seconds later that my phone rings. My heart thumps rapidly. _God, God, Jesus Christ_. My hands shake as I answer. "Hello?"

"Ronan," he says, that familiar voice sending heat rushing to my cheeks.

"What?"

"You sent me Gertrude. I send you Ronan."

"Ronan, I can't talk. I-I'm at home. Someone could walk in and—"

"Shhh, it's okay. I know. I just want you to know you don't have to see me again. Not if you don't want to."

"Ronan," I whisper, "y-you don't understand. I-I can't! I—"

"Hey, it's fine. I just don't want to sit here wondering if you'd ever call me back."

I sit there in silence, contemplating. Would I have? Without a doubt, yes, but maybe not with the message either of us had hoped.


End file.
